Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:Viktor turned to Broadside. “Could they be following us?”

“I dunno, Vikky, I dunno…”

O-13

Viktor was on the main deck of the Bombadier, thinking.

This is one megabloks of a fix... he contemplated, Here I am, on a ship in the middle of the ocean, sailing toward a ship I don't want to sail to, and which is more likely than not filled with pirates. In addition to that, I'm being followed by another ship who wants to jail me for crimes I didn't do! What a bunch of megabloks!

Viktor glared at the sailor but said nothing. The bloke was right. If only if I had picked a smaller boat to hijack...I wouldn't be in the mess with a drunkard captain bent on chancing a mad pirate...

Even though Viktor's seasickness had faded away with every slurp of Broadside's cure, Viktor wanted to get off the Bombadier. Viktor felt trapped on the ship, with nothing but sea surrounding him and every direction looking the same.

The sooner I get off this tub, the better. thought Viktor.

However, he knew he was stuck. Broadside was convinced Viktor had some information about this so-called Storm-Rider. Unfortunately, Viktor had never heard of any Storm-Rider until now.

“It’s that man.” Said the wide eyed pirate, plopping himself down on a chair and taking a swig from the flask around his neck. “That Mister indestructible. He not human. He can’t be.”

“Sydney!” the captain bellowed, grabbing his first mate by the chin. “Snap out of it! What are ye on about?”

“It happened not twelve minutes ago. We were down in the hold for mess, see? And I was standing beside him…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well I is pleased ta see ye’ve worked up an appetite sir. Aye, even if ye haven’t been working. I’ll have ye know that this vessel hosts the best pickles and eggs this side of the mainland. Leastways we host them the most often. Eh course we do get some variety now and again. Ah, there’s the cook now. Let’s see what crawled out of the bunghole today.”

Targon groaned as he saw the menu being served to the pirates in the line ahead. No surprise, it was pickles and eggs.

“Course there’s only one thing to wash down a bunch of pickles an’ eggs” said Sydney as they took their seats on the long crowded bench that ran the length down one side the single table. “Only one thing.” The pirate repeated, winking at Targon slipping him a mug of grog.

The Dragon Master laughed. “Fiery? This stuff is about as fiery as a glass of mud. Now Dragonmilk, there’s a real drink for ya!”

“Oh really… So ye like a little zep in ye’re pint eh? I think I might have something for ye. Aye, I verily might. Ever tried ork draught before?”

“Ork draught?”

“Aye, that’s right. I have a little left from the invasion. Spoils of war you know. It sup above with me things…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So what, ye gave him the left over elf blood? What reason is that to bring me down here?”

“Weee’ll actually no. I didn’t give him the leftover elf blood. See, ye remember how he said he was indestructible an’ how I thought it might be the stone what had somethin to do with it. Well I thought I ought to test my theory so I…

“Yes, what did you do?”

“I uh… I filled up the flask with ye’re glove cleaner.”

“You what?!”

“Now don’ get angry sir, I only did it to help you!”

“But…but you didn’t actually give that to him? That stuff would turn his guts into jelly if it didn’t burn through his gullet first.”

“I know…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Whoooo! Now that’s what I call a drink!” Targon had just downed the last of the ‘Ork druaght’ and was wiping the drops from his beard, which was turning grey under the glove cleaner’s froth. “I have to admit, Smythy. This stuff beats the megablocks out of Dragonmilk.”

“Yea—yeah,” stuttered Smythe “g—great. I uh, I have to go up deck now. Se—see ya.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“It isn’t right I tells ya. It just ain’t right!”

“Tyco!” Burtrand swore. “Well now we know that he really is indestructible. We just don’t know why.”

“Yes we do! It’s that rock I tells ye! It’s got ta be!”

Burtrand pondered this for a moment and then, suddenly went straight to the cabin doors and threw them open. The captain swaggered onto the deck and hailed the first of his crew passing by.

Formendacil wrote:"We go to the centre of the city," said the Old Man. "So that you can touch the artefact, and control the city's power."

"I can't do that from here?" asked Elwen.

"Oh no," said the Old Man with a shake of his head. "And be on your watch, all of you. The Sorcerer-king will try to capture Elwen before she can reach the artefact. Otherwise, he will be powerless against her control of the city's powers, and his whole journey in coming here will have been in vain. Keep a VERY close watch!"

Many centuries ago, the Mages of the city, seeking to provide a haven from the evil unleashed by the death of King Kris, separated the Mana of their city from that of Dametreos as a whole. No one knows how.

This Mana, detached from the greater Mana, was no longer under the evil influence of those times. The city became a refuge of goodness and peace.

But many dark sorcerors, warlocks and magicians of evil purpose, desired to destroy the city, and take its wealth and position for themselves. The Mana the city Mages could draw on was not great enough to provide them with such power as they would need to fight back attackers, if that attacker was drawing on the greater, Dametreos-wide Mana.

So the Mages created an artefact. They imbued it powers and doused it in potions. They gave it a power that had never been seen before in Dametreos. And it was called the Wizardsbane.

The Wizardsbane did not act by striking out with magic. Its was a defensive magic. The magic of the Wizardsbane did one thing, and one thing only: it negated the magic of others. While a Mage of the city used the Wizardsbane, no person could work magic within the city. Not Mages of the local Mana, not attackers with the greater Mana, not even Goblins using their rune-based powers. No magic could be used near-by while the Wizardsbane was in use.

The city fell in decline, as all civilisations must, and when only one Mage was left, and the people had been put forth from the city, and the Mana of the City had been tied off so as to keep any intruders from entering into the city, the last Mage put an enchantment on the Wizardsbane, so that no one should be able to use or remove it. Save one. People with the right authority might enter and the city, and use it as a refuge, but none might use or remove the Wizardsbane. On the last journey of his life, the Mage hid the markers that would identify the one who would be able to re-access the Wizardsbane.

Centuries later, the city had been nearly forgotten. No longer did people flee there in times of refuge. That it would open to those with authority was forgotten.

In a far-off land, one was finally born. She was born on the site of the first marker, and was thus marked as the one able to access the Wizardsbane. As she grew up, an old sorceror studied about the invisible mark around her, and learned what it meant. After many years, he set off with her and a companion on a quest to re-discover the location of the city, and power of its magic.

So they went to a valley on a northern isle, where the crown of the ancient kings became affixed to her head, giving her the authority to enter the city and rule its magic. They were directed to a cove on a southern isle, where the gem from the rod of the Chief Mage was embedded in her crown, giving her the power to succeed to the Mages' power.

And finally, after long months, they came to the City. There, she was captured, and taken to the Wizardsbane, and unconscious was laid upon it. For just as only she could access it's power, so only through her death upon it could it be removed from the protective magic of the local Mana, and used by another.

And so even as the Sorceror-king dueled with Sir Dractor, intending to kill her for its power as soon as he might, when Sir Jayko Falconensis woke Elwen with a heavy splash of cold water, when Elwen's hands, now conscious, touched the cold stone of the Wizardsbane, no magic of the Sorceror-king would work.

~~~~~~~~~

Formendacil wrote:But when he had clenched his power, and put forth his hand to cast it, nothing happened. His power would not leave him. He looked up at the great table, and saw Elwen standing there, hands on the table, a triumphant smirk on her face. But before he could do anything about that, Sir Dractor launched himself at him.

The Sorceror-king might not have been able to do magic, but he was still a threat. Elwen could do nothing to harm him, and he was still on his feet, still armed with his green firey blade.

The Sorceror-king recovered in time from the shock of not being able to use his magic. What of it? he thought. Elwen was weak, and had to remain where she was. Once he was done with Sir Dractor, he would kill her where she sat, and success would still be his.

However, Sir Dractor didn't seem likely to be defeated.

The big knight had no serious wounds. The Sorceror-king had two. Neither were fatal, but he could feel himself slowly down as they continued to duel, unable to turn much or put pressure on his leg, while he couldn't twist much or bend his abdomen without increasing bloodloss above his stomach.

And he couldn't even use magic to help himself.

Sir Dractor was tiring too, but it was mainly fatigue. And a good deal of it as well. But the Sorceror-king could see where the fight was going to go without magic, and he didn't like the destination one bit. Quorandis and his Cavaliers were beating Oris Del Grakken's men, and soon they too could turn on him.

It was too late. He had failed his Master.

It would be terrible when he returned to his homeworld. The Sorceror-king knew that he had done very poorly and would be punished as such. But it was better than death, and that appeared to imminent. Perhaps, if nothing else, he had eliminated the Old Man for good.

The Sorceror-king had to move fast. His magic reserves were still growing, very slowly, but until he could use them, he was bleeding far too much from his chest.

First he had to take out Elwen. If he could kill her, so much the better. But he wouldn't be able to access the magic. Neither would the Old Man, at least.

With his left hand, he drew out the dagger he had intended to kill Elwen with, and as he danced to Sir Dractor's left, he found an opening and threw. Sir Dractor put up an arm, thinking it aimed at him, but it soared past him, and into Elwen. Elwen collapsed backwards, falling off the Wizardsbane. Jayko caught her, and let her drop slowly to the ground, unaware that the Sorceror-king could now work magic.

The Sorceror-king knew that he didn't have enough magic to defeat Sir Dractor entirely. And even if he did, there were the Cavaliers. So he would leave.

He glanced quickly up at the roof. He needed to find an open spot. With most of the dome missing, that was a very easy task. He merely had to move a few meters backwards.

Sir Dractor had been momentarily distracted by Elwen's fall, and had taken a few steps backwards out of self-protection. Then he saw the Sorceror-king raising his left-arm heavenward, and about to do a piece of magic.

Catching sight of Sir Dractor, the Sorceror-king flung his sword at the big knight, making sure he couldn't stop him. Sir Dractor ducked, and the sword only caught him on helm, it's green fire slicing through the crest of the visor, and denting the base.

Somewhat wounded, Sir Dractor whipped his own, point-less sword at the Sorceror-king, but even as it came through the air before him, the Sorceror-king dissolved, and the sword shot right through where he had been. As the Sorceror-king, now in the form of a black hawk shot up into the night, the sword smashed into the wall of the hall, snapping into two pieces of approximately the same length.

"I have buisness to attend to. I will talk with Lord Bjarn, but, standing unless Lord Bjarn wishes it changed, you are to remain in custody until the Wolfpack feud is over and the Forestman borders have been reopened. Good day to you!"

The heavy wooden door swung shut.

Sitting in a midnight glade
Firelight dancing off burnished blade
A Forestman sits
Wondering about the next day
But after three mugs of ale
Let it bring what it may.

"He's in no condition to do anything, and it would take too long to get him to such a condition."

"Couldn't Elwen use the magic of the city?" asked Jayko. "I thought the Old Man said that she would be getting control of it, as well as this Wizardsbane."

"I do believe you're right," said Sir Dractor. "Elwen, can you hear us?"

"Yes," came a very weak voice. "I heard what Jayko said."

"We're going to move you, so that you can touch the table again," said Quorandis. "Will you be all right?"

"I have to be, don't I?"

"Yes... I suppose you do."

Sir Dractor and Quorandis lifted Elwen up by the shoulders, and moved her back to the Wizardsbane. Elwen put her hand on it. At first, the effect was the automatic termination of any local magic- not that there was any. But as Elwen forced her thoughts towards those of magic and healing, the barrier dissolved, and she found herself linked to the city's Mana.

It was very instinctive, Elwen found, using the Mana. It seemed to know exactly what she wanted. She could feel it working in her flesh, knitting it back together, refilling it with new blood.

With the Mana to guide her, she could see all throughout the city. Dozens of Dragon Masters lay in pain in the streets. Extending the magic to them as well, she patched up their broken bones, sewed up their broken skin, and refilled their emptied blood vessels.

The Dragon Masters who were dead, were dead. Not even the Mana could restore life. But Sir Dractor, in his attacks, had been going not for fatalities, but for getting the Dragon Masters out of his way, and it was mercifully few who had perished at his blade.

Elwen sought out the Old Man, but he was gone, nowhere to be found. Elwen felt the Mana of the city draining, and seeing nothing else to do, returned back to her body, now healed, and the people in the hall.

The Dragon Masters and Cavaliers were getting up off the floor, looking amazed at their miraculous recoveries. Quorandis, Jayko, and quite a few others were staring at her open-mouthed.

"Shall we be heading out?" asked Sir Dractor, impressed but not looking as amazed as most of the others. "I see little reason to linger here."

"Yes, let's," said Quorandis. "Although to be perfectly honest, it seems a little bit incongruous to just up and march away after a fight like that..."

"Get your things together," said Elwen, "but first I need to destroy the Wizardsbane. That's why we came here in the first place."

"Why?" asked Quorandis. "Such a device has immense power to protect, and you're the only one who can access it. What harm is it?"

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life being hunted down by evil wizards intending to do what the Sorceror-king tried," said Elwen. "And just because he failed, doesn't mean that they couldn't succeed. And what happens if another person is born who could access it, who doesn't have any lofty morals?"

"Good point," said Quorandis. "I round up my men, and help Elbadar with his. We'll meet you at the gates in three hours."

So as the Cavaliers and the Dragon Masters made their way out of the rotunda, Elwen turned to the Wizardsbane, Sir Dractor and Jayko watching.

Nobody noticed Oris Del Grakken, as he obediently joined Elbadar and the other Dragon Masters on their way out of the hall, pick up the fire-wreathed sword of the Sorceror-king, and slip it into his own empty sheath.

Elwen turned to Sir Dractor.

"So what do I do?" she asked.

"I haven't a clue," he replied. "I imagine that you should touch and just will it's powers out of existence, or something."

Elwen put her hands on the Wizardsbane, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She willed the stone table to give up its magic-inhibiting powers, ordering it to diffuse its power back into the city's Mana. For a moment she tingled as it resisted, then something in the magic snapped, and the Wizardsbane ceased to function as a magic inhibitor, and became merely the locus of the local Mana.

"You left the city's protective shield intact, I see," noted Sir Dractor as they walked to the gates of the city.

"Why not?" asked Elwen, noting mentally that the streets were empty of Dragon Masters. "Perhaps someday people may need use of it. Just because they can't use its magic doesn't mean they can't make use of its effects. With Imperial officials to give them access, people could hide here in times of trouble."

"I suppose they could," said Sir Dractor. "Although times of trouble like that are to be hoped will never happen again."

"Unlikely, and you of all people know it!" said Elwen.

They had reached the gates of the city. The sun was rising in the east, shining a golden light through the blue haze, thus illuminating the city in a soft emerald glow. The Cavaliers were mounted and ready to go. Elbadar and his hundred twenty-some remaining Dragon Masters were marshalled and awaiting orders. Three horses- formerly ridden by some of the Dragon Masters, stood waiting for Elwen and her two companions.

"We couldn't find any sign of the Old Man," said Quorandis as he gave Elwen a boost onto her horse.

"I wouldn't worry about him," said Sir Dractor.

"He can take care of himself," said Elwen. "Now, Commander-General, if you would do the honours?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Quorandis, mounting and riding to the forefront of the group. "In the name of His Imperial Majesty, Constantius VII, Emperor of Legoland, Overlord of Dametreos, I command these gates to open, and allow those here assembled to depart."

The gates opened, the haze disappeared, and they could see out into the golden green of the forest, where the sunlight was breaking through holes in the forest-cover.

"Soldiers, begin march," came the voice of Elbadar.

Within minutes, the Dragon Masters, Cavaliers, and the three other riders had left the city. The gates closed behind them, and the haze grew back over their pathway.

Kale blinked. His silk tongue always got him out of trouble, but apparently not anymore. Sighing he began pacing around. He walked over to the small barred window. Once his eye got used to the glare he noticed dozens of forestmen walking around.

At least they hadn’t taken his armour. Just his sword and shield. He yanked his helmet off and threw it on the bench. He still had a dagger hidden in his boot, but he didn’t want to have to use it.

Grumbling he sat on the bench. He began thinking of a means of escape if it came to that. Those smart Tyco T-axis’s had blindfolded him too. That would just make it interesting though.

Once Kale found his sword he might be able to cut his way out of here, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about their archers.

He could not and would not stay here. Pythos was never one to tolerate failure. Even more, Kale knew the
powers Pythos had given him were waning. He never ever used them but he would if he needed to.

Sighing he rolled over and tried to catch a wink. Ultimately he made the right choice, even if they were right to treat him like he was dangerous, he still saved that forestwoman.

That should save him from an exicution, unlike in the other Forest Dweller nations…

It was a damp foggy day. Most people who could were spending it indoors in front of a roaring fire. This meant that no one saw the boat that slowly rowed up to the wharf.

The boat was not much to look at. To say that it was beat up would be too kind of a compliment. The boat was falling apart. To see it actually float, much less hold the two people inside it, was an action against nature.

The man in front, upon seeing the wharf appear in the fog, stepped up in the boat and attempted to make a gallant entry onto land. However, the abrupt change in weight placement caused the already unstable boat to sink.

The man, who had been rowing, upon seeing what his comrade had done, leapt out of the boat, turned in the air, and landed on his feet, facing his companion and the sinking boat, all without getting so much as a drop of water on him.

The first man, now wet up to his knees, reached out a hand to the other and said. "Very impressive Kae-Os. Now stop smirking and lend a hand."

Kae-Os smiled, then reached out a hand, and without any noticeable effort, hauled the soaking man onto the wharf.

"Don't blame me, you were the one who stood up."

"Ya, ya. Keep it down will you. The ladies might hear that. You know for an elf, you sure don't do a lot of wise stuff."

Kae-Os smiled again, a calm almost parentish smile, and replied. "If you heard a wise thing, you wouldn't know it if it stood in front of you with two heads, Aiden."

"I can't say," replied Aiden. "I never saw wisdom with two heads."

The elf just shook his head and walked down the wharf. Aiden immediately followed and the two were soon swallowed up by the fog.

There were muffled coughs throughout the large council chamber, filled with
classes of every sort – from high ranking earls and nobles in the front row,
down to day-laborers in the balcony. The air was tight and the atmosphere
tense, but even so silence prevailed.

The calling of a general assembly had come as a shock to all, especially
after the numerous upheavals of the past few months. The nation’s economy
had utterly collapsed – for over ten years it had been pushed to the
uttermost and the outbreak of the plague had dealt it its last blow. Riots
were springing up everywhere – not just outpourings of discontent like the
ones of last winter though. The riots of the last few days were utter mobs,
looting, stealing, and causing general panic throughout the city. The
entire country was in danger of utter collapse.

Off to the right side of the speaker’s platform a door opened. What little
conversation there was stopped as a tall, thin but well-built man stepped to
the center. He paused for a moment, taking time to pull at his mustache,
and then began to speak.

“I would like to thank you all for attending this – meeting, if you could
call it that. I see the turnout to be of a varied audience, so much the
better. My name is Vanderdious. As you all know, our country has suffered
incalculable losses over the past six months. Our population decimated, the
economy ruined, international credit smashed, and a general air of
destruction seems to hover over our land. Martin Humbolt has been removed
of course, and for the past three days a council of three men, myself one of
them have assumed control.” Vander paused again, taking in any reactions.
There were none. He proceeded, lifting up a short piece of parchment. “In
that time, we, that is the this temporary council, have outlined a plan for
the recovery of our great nation. There remain many points to be clarified
and straightened out, but time does not stop. Instead, action must be taken
immediately to prevent a complete collapse.” From the audience there was a
general murmur of agreement. Vander continued. “The first, and perhaps
most painfully obvious point I would like to make is that Powercorrupts. Other nations have powerful nobles, keeping the power of
their rulers from growing too strong. The Legolanders have an elaborate
system of sub-factions, all of whom – in theory anyway, have their own king,
equals to the emperor. Since 1857, our government has had no such
limitations. For over a hundred years the power of the king has been
absolute. In that space of time we have had a curious mixture of rulers,
some good, most bad, and others utterly tyrannical. At any rate, this three
member council, along with the help of others have drafted a series of
points to rectify this dilemma – 6 to be exact.” Vanderdious stopped, put
on a pair of spectacles from his pocket and started to read the paper he had
brought along.
“Firstly: The power of the government will rest in two houses; a
lower house and an upper house. The upper house will consist of a body of
twenty-five nobles, selected and led by Lord Drakko. The members of this
house will have hereditary powers.
Secondly: The lower house mentioned in point one above shall consist
of one-hundred landowners, each member being elected by the first hundred
largest cities, towns, or villages in the country, the voters being whatever
city council, government, or lord ruling there. The members of this house
will not have hereditary powers. Elections will be held every eight years.
Thirdly: In order to preserve and uphold the hallowed traditions of
this country, a king will be appointed to preside over both houses, having
the powers to lead the armed forces, and make any laws or changes as he sees
fit, provided he has support of the majority from both houses. We have come
to understand that the Hohenzollern line remains unbroken and the present
heir is being south after. In the meantime the council will act as a
temporary replacement.
Fourthly: Recognizing that the Bulls still exist as a legitimate
faction, the area with proper borders where the Bull state used to be will
be established as a protectorate of the Falcon nation. It will have its own
laws, king, etc., but will still send representatives to the upper and lower
houses, recognizing that a significant portion of the current population
there is of Falcon decent. Any laws or changes passed and ratified by the
Falcon government will be reviewed by whatever government the Bulls set up
for passage there. This will ensure they are completely autonomous in their
ways while still ensuring the rights of Falcons who have been living there
for over a decade.
Fifthly: A delegation will be sent to the Legolander emperor in
attempt to have the Falcon nation recognized as a legitimate faction and to
restore trust among other nations throughout Dameteros.
Sixthly The gold reserves of this nation will be opened. This will
cause artificial inflation, but it will make any foreign payments easier to
deal with.
Seventhly The 40% government seizure of all raw materials and the 15%
seizure of all manufactured goods is hereby abolished.
Eighthly: All the terms in the peace accord agreed upon in February
will be adhered to.”

Vander stopped and looked at the group in front of him which immediately
broke out into a confused chatter of voices, most of them raised and
arguing. He had expected this and waited for things to die down a bit.

“Now for the reason you all have been called here. Seeing how we have such
a delightful cross-section of the population here, all present will vote on
whether or not this resolution will pass. All those in favor?”

A loud aye filled the room.

“Opposed?”

An equally loud nay was heard. Vanderdious wiped his brow with his hand.
“The chair is in doubt. All those in favor please stand.”
Vander counted, and then repeated the motion for those opposed. After he
was finished, he motioned for everyone to sit down. In a weak voice he
announced the result. “By a margin of fourteen votes, this motion passes.
I urge all of you to do your part in stabilizing the current situation. The
home guard is scattered and disorganized – it will be up to the people of
this land to do what is right. The planting season is starting, numerous
opportunities are opened for the rebuilding of the 1st Fleet, and we all
still need handcrafted goods as much as ever. Please go now and do your
part.”

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:The Lone Falcon handed over two rolls of parchment.

“Also, send a messenger to the Classic Emperor with this message.”

Lemon_Squeezer2 wrote:Fifthly: A delegation will be sent to the Legolander emperor in attempt to have the Falcon nation recognized as a legitimate faction and to restore trust among other nations throughout Dameteros.

Even as the Black Falcon delegates were listening to the words of Vanderdious, the Lone Falcon's message was reaching the Emperor. A herald clad in blue and purple livery was approaching the Emperor in his office.

"Your Imperial Majesty, a message from the Black Falcon Resistance, bearing the seal of the Lone Falcon," pronounced the herald, handing Constantius a rolled-up piece of parchment, sealed with a blob of wax, imprinted with the left half of the Black Falcon emblem, the symbol known as the "lone falcon" to those with knowledge of the Resistance.

"It arrived by carrier pigeon, from the Falconis City brood," said the herald. Constantius thanked him and he turned to leave.

Sitting at his desk, the Emperor broke the seal and read the letter.

From the Lone Falcon, temporary Governor of Falconis City and Protector of the Kingdom of the Black Falcon, to His Imperial Majesty, Constantius VII of Orion, greetings!

As leader of the "Resistance to Overthrow the Regime of Falconis XXVIII" (recently directed against the regimes of the Marquis D'Durlass and General Martin Humboldt), I am pleased to announce the liberation of the Black Falcon people and the capture of Falconis City.

The Resistance is now working to reform the Black Falcon government, and to enthrone a new sovereign who will rule to the benefit of the people. In the interim, the government of the Black Falcons, under the dominion of the Resistance, is working at the eradification of groups loyal to the form regimes, and replacing those in power with those loyal to the ideals of the Resistance.

We are passing into law motions that will re-establish the Bull Knights as a protectorate nation, on the lands formerly occupied by the Bull Knight people. Lord Barbod wishes to thank the Emperor and his people for their offer of land, but returns it with that knowledge that his ancestral lands will be his again.

We are also passing motions that stabilise the Black Falcon economy, which will allow us to pursue our economic duties as outlined in the terms of the peace accord of February 2005, C.C.

We would like to ask that the Emperor give Imperial Assent to the new government of the Kingdom of the Black Falcons, legitimizing our cause in the eyes of Dametreos, and allowing our borders and trade to be once again fully opened to all nations, allowing our economy and people to recover after a devasting war and plague.

We have also sent messages to all the nations bordering our lands, and will be re-establishing diplomatic contact in the near future by sending ambassadors to Orion, Castleton, Port Crowne, Drullen Bell, and other capitals in the near future.

Regarding our replacement of King Falconis XXIX, who disappeared from public knowledge in the past months, we are searching for his legal heir and successor, his nephew Graygon, believed to be in Wolfpack territory, who will hopefully become King Falconis XXX of Hohenzollern when found.

Trusting that His Majesty will find that above to be pleasing, I remain,

The Lone Falcon.

Dated April 27th, 2005, C.C., Falconis City, The Kingdom of the Black Falcons

The Emperor was pleased. This was the best news out of the Black Falcon kingdom in months. He immediately called his secretary and began to compose an announcement, to be sent to all the Dametreosian capitals.

But not a word did he say about the Bulls being a protectorate. From what he knew of Lord Barbod, such a ruling would not go over at all, and in all likelihood, was more wishful thinking that sensible thinking on the part of the new Falcon governors.

Be it herewith known that the Emperor of Legoland, Overlord of Dametreos, Constantius VII, gives Imperial Assent to the government of the Kingdom of the Black Falcons, having taken it by force from the illegal regime of General Martin Humboldt.

We order the removal of all internation sanctions against the Black Falcon nation, and advise the restoration of all diplomatic ties therewith. In conjunction with the fulfillment of their financial obligations as outlined in the peace accords of February of this year, they are to be once again considered a faction in good standing among the nations of Dametreos, and once again protected by the rights and freedoms those in accord with the Emperor.

All national laws and statutes as enacted upon their own soil are to be held as legally and morally binding therein, and as under the approval of the Emperor.

In recognition of the peace treaty now enacted between the Black Falcon and Bull Knight nations, the Bull Knight kingdom is now formally recognised as containing the same territory as it did prior to the Bull-Falcon War of 1995, as well as the island territory associated with Bull Isle. The land grants of the February peace accords are rescinded by agreement between the involved parties.

Imperial Assent is herewith given to Lord Barbod to reign as rightful King of the Bulls.

Dated this 29th Day of April, in the 2005th Year C.C. in the Imperial Castle of Orion. On the authority of:

Constantius VIII,Emperor of Legoland,King of Orion,Overlord of Dametreos,Lord of the House Legonis.

The door swung open, startling Kale awake. A guard strode into the room, hand resting on swordhilt, and waited for Kale to sit up. He sat up on the cot, rubbing his eyes, while the guard deposited his meal on the wooden footstool sitting by the door. It was the plain Forestman affair eaten by all of the prisoners; a small loaf of grain bread and some cooked venison on a tin plate, along with a small beaker of cold water. Not very fancy, but enough to be satisfied with.

"Capt'n Anardan will be in here soon enough;"
said the guard as he stood up and prepared to leave.
"He went to talk with m'lord Bjarn last time I saw 'im, so best finish that food sharpish. Leave the dishes by the door, if'n you will."

The guard scowled as he straightened up, then, for the second time, the door slammed shut.

Sitting in a midnight glade
Firelight dancing off burnished blade
A Forestman sits
Wondering about the next day
But after three mugs of ale
Let it bring what it may.

Lord Void was bored. And annoyed. Bored because until Caimlin came back with a shipload of slaves and Elsa Byrd finished the design of the new Fire Breathing Fortress, Lord Void could do nothing. Hence, he was annoyed at both of them for taking their sweet megablocks time. To keep himself occupied, Lord Void had taken to debating with himself who he was annoyed at more: the eccentric architect or the loyal Brigadier-General. At the moment it was Elsa Byrd. She was not only controlling, obnoxious, dictating and demanding, but she also talked too much, to fast, and too loud. Not to mention she had made a complete mess of Lord Void’s personal study and quarters. The only real fault he could up with for Caimlin was that the tyco fellow was almost too loyal -- if there was such a thing.

Lord Void had tried to persuade her to move to the library, where he argued there would be more room, but she replied with, “But dahling, I am already nice and cozy, and my god, moving now would be such an in-con-veen-nance.”. Lord Void fumed but dropped the issue and took another room that was no less grand, but much smaller. It was in that room a soldier found Lord Void.

The guard looked relieved and nodded. Lord Void stared back at him with burning eyes that somehow remained deadly cool.

“I see. Go, now.”

The soldier bowed swiftly and almost scampered out of the room. Lord Void stood with a flourish and allowed himself a chuckled. Time for some fun. He strode out of the room and soon was in the dungeon.

“Leave us.” he snapped at the jail keeper.

“Aye, milord…”

As the jail keeper slunk out of the room Lord Void flicked a ring of keys from it’s peg and deftly unlocked the creaking door to Hadadar’s cell. Lord Void glided in grandly, leaving the door open and the key in the lock, as if mocking Hadadar and daring him to pass by Lord Void and escape.

“Void.”

The name was spat out. Lord Void raised a thin eyebrow.

“Gone all bitter, are we, Hadadar? Become brave in your new quarters?”

“You said you wouldn’t jail me!” the ousted prince did his best to growl.

“I said nothing of the sort. I said I wouldn’t kill you. I never said what condition I’d leave you in.”

A stream of goblin-word flew from Lord Void’s twisted month, and instantly Hadadar was writhing on the floor, shrieking and wailing.

“It doesn’t feel good, does it, when one’s own bones are stretched ever-so-slightly?” smirked Lord Void, and repeated both previous goblin runes in quick succession. There was a horrible pop and crack and Hadadar’s pants began to turn red with blood. His legs had shattered within him. Hadadar cried out once then fell to a whimper.

Lord Void leaned close and shouted, “DOES IT?”

Hadadar, his face smeared with tears, mustered all he could and spat. Or, at least, he tried. The saliva didn’t quite leave his mouth, and it dribbled down his fat lips and triple chin. But Lord Void knew the meaning.

“HADADAR!”

Another spew of goblin-speak, and Hadadar flew into the air and smashed into the beams of the ceiling.

“I SPARED YOUR LIFE BECAUSE YOU WERE NO LONGER A THREAT TO ME!” growled Lord Void, now directing the broken and bleeding human form to smash into the rear stone wall, “BUT YOU THREATEN ME NOW, INSOLATE FOOL!”

Now Hadadar was smashed against the metal bars of the cell.

“ONLY A FOOL DARES BE INSOLENT! YOU ARE THE KING OF ALL FOOLS!”

Lord Void swung for another blow -- and fell over. The stream of Earth Magic ceased, and Hadadar’s body slumped to the floor. Lord Void was doubled over. An electric pain lanced through his body. Then, just a sudden, it was gone. Lord Void gasped, and bile churned around in his throat.

“T-Tyco…”

Lord Void clutched at his chest though the pain was now fading. What had happened? Had his own spell turned on him? Lord Void leaned on the jail door now hanging from one hinge and gazed at Hadadar. The fat bloke was not dead.

“I said I wouldn’t kill you.” hissed Lord Void, and then called, “Jailer!”

The man came scampering in, and stared at the bloody mass on the floor and destruction around him.

“Clean this place up!” snapped Lord Void, unconsciously still holding his side, “Make sure the traitor is repaired reasonably. I said I would not kill him, and I never break my word. Just don’t make the traitor too comfortable. Leave his legs in their current condition.”

“A-Aye, milord.” the man stuttered.

Lord Void left the dungeon and collapsed onto his bed upstairs in his chamber in a most uncharacteristic way. He was still stunned and befuddled by the sudden attack of pain. Feeling tired, he locked his door and went to sleep.

Formendacil wrote:Elwen sought out the Old Man, but he was gone, nowhere to be found. ~~~~~~~~~"We couldn't find any sign of the Old Man," said Quorandis as he gave Elwen a boost onto her horse.

"I wouldn't worry about him," said Sir Dractor.

"He can take care of himself," said Elwen. ~~~~~~~~~Within minutes, the Dragon Masters, Cavaliers, and the three other riders had left the city. The gates closed behind them, and the haze grew back over their pathway.

They were going home.

It a long, boring day as they marched out of the Old Ruins adn the surrouding wood, past the startled Talistrani soldiers, and out into the sparsely populated parklands of the northern part of the isle.

They were tired, and it had been a long, hard night for all of them. It was a collective sigh of relief that went up from the column when Quorandis finally ordered a halt in the late afternoon. Normally, he would have marched on for another several hours, as long as the light held, but tonight there was no hurry, and every reason to stop.

Sir Dractor was finding the whole process of getting out of his armour to be rather difficult- but there was no way he was sleeping in his armour that night, not even if they were surrounded by a battalion of rabid brigands.

The problem was, that his armour had gotten REALLY banged out of shape. In addition, where the Sorceror-king's sword had struck with full force, it was not only dented, but brittle and black. Finally, Sir Dractor had to ask Jayko to cut the straps on his armour because there was no other way to get it off.

Then he pried his misshapen, visor-less helm off of his head, and tossed it to the ground. Sir Dractor looked at the sorry pile of metal.

"Somehow I don't think Rodurik will be able to fix it this time," he said.

"And a new sword and shield," said Jayko. "Both of your own are no good."

Jayko was right. And not only were Sir Dractor's sword and shield totally beyond repair, but he had left the pieces in the Old Ruins.

Never mind, he worry about replacing the whole lot of it in the morning.

After a quick supper, Sir Dractor unrolled his bedding, and climbed in, ready to fall asleep. Before the sun had even begun to set in the west he, and most of the camp, were asleep.

Sir Dractor woke in the middle of the night. The Old Man's voice was in his head.

-Aethelred- it came.

"What?" he replied.

-I'm saying good-bye. I've left for our homeland. You and Elwen must either remain here or follow on your own. I must go after the Sorceror-king.-

"What happened to you?" asked Sir Dractor. "Every indication was that you were dead, or certainly in very bad shape. How did you leave so fast?"

-The Sorceror-king's magic that defeated me lingered on me, keeping me unconsciousness. When Elwen used the Wizardsbane, it was temporarily suspended, allowing me to wake. By the time I was fully conscious and ready to do anything, the Sorceror-king had been defeated, and it was imperative that I follow and leave as well. You did a good job.-

"I'll tell Elwen that," said Sir Dractor. "I don't think either of us will return homeward."

-That is just as well. Elwen will be happier in Dametreos, and I think you will as well. You've served your prince enough. Maybe it is time to serve yourself-

"Maybe. Take care, Old Man."

-I will. You do the same-

And then he was gone. And Sir Dractor went right back to sleep. No getting up for a grueling journey this time.